


Awake

by Shadowdianne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, There Is Only One Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/Shadowdianne
Summary: She would never push her feelings onto her, she thought once more. She would never ask nor question nor confirm if Regina was aware of them; the mere idea and concept one she didn’t even know how to voice. Yet she wished for her to be able to do so even if it would merely be the confirmation that she had, indeed, fallen, while Regina had remained upright. Like she always did.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 91





	Awake

**Author's Note:**

> Very belated birthday gift for Italy based on one of the many amazing manips she has done.  
> (Nope, still out of fandom, but I love her and she deserves the best)

The ticking of the clock reverberated through the small hotel room, seemingly getting progressively louder the longer they heard its echo. It was late, far too late, and Emma swallowed as she tried to keep her breathing as even as possible despite the nerves coiling down on her stomach, crawling up her body, eating her insides.

She had known, from the moment she had seen the bed propped up against one of the corners of the room, that Snow had set them up. It hadn’t merely been the glances her mother had been giving her ever since the divorce nor the conversation the dark haired woman had had with her a few weeks ago about finding love once more but also the tension she had felt the moment Regina and herself had mentioned how they intended to travel through the Merged realms; check that magic was still on its continuous balance and not about to call forth destruction upon them all.

Neither Regina or she had truly talked about how easy it had been for the two of them to step back into something they weren’t entirely sure -or at least Emma wasn’t- that had truly been there before: there was an easiness on the idea of closeness, an intent and warmth that had taken Emma aback the moment she had voiced the plan outload and, for all its purposes, she had seen the way Regina’s eyes had shone purple and black for a moment before returning to its natural shade the second her own magic had jumped through her veins, static-like almost, crisp and far too strong.

So when she had mentioned the thought to her mother, fully expecting a comment on how Hope would o _f course_ be staying at Snow and David’s house, and she had seen her mother’s eyes she had felt the pull of magic once more, the precipice in where her mother seemed so intent on pushing her towards to.

Emma knew where her mother was coming from; she understood it in the same sense she understood how obvious it had been for her to keep on fighting for Regina time and time again without giving herself any respite or time to consider the why. She knew the why, she was terrified of it after all; and the fact that her mother seemed to have realized it was not helping her nor the way she felt the prickling sensation of power and future the longer she remained at Regina’s side.

Which was the problem, the main one, the one that made her chest heave as she kept staring at the darkened roof of the room, the one that kept her away from asking Regina if she was awake despite knowing, painfully, with far too much clarity, that she -indeed- was. The problem lied on how good it felt, on how drunk on the feeling she felt, on how much her fingertips ached -full of warmth and electric-like magic- for her arms to move slightly to her right, where the slight dip on the mattress signaled where Regina’s body commenced. Close, so so close to her.

And, even if Emma wished to keep on deceiving herself ever since she had seen the moment the crown had grazed Regina’s head, she had known the whole act would become futile, a drenched paper of a promise she had made herself far too long ago.

She felt hungry of the possibility of a second with Regina; a second with her at her side: how could she not wish for the night to keep on going when all she wanted was to move her fingers, her hand, her arm, her whole body, until it was pressed against the other woman’s?

And that terrified her: kept her awake and fearing that something -her breathing, the way her magic kept on getting stronger as it jumped through her veins, as it turned her blood into electrical power- anything really, would become far too obvious and so relevant enough for the brunette woman to make a comment on it. A comment that she would not be able to refute despite her intention on keeping doing so for as long as she could.

Sighing into the room’s darkness, the blonde glanced at her side, at where Regina’s form could be made amongst the shadows of the room; the shine of purple rivulets enough for her to bite down on her bottom lip, swallowing a whimper that kept on creeping, fighting for her freedom from between her teeth.

She felt far too exposed and raw and, not for the first time that evening, she wished that her mother hadn’t intervened. Hadn’t tried to set them up, pushing a narrative she wasn’t entirely convinced that was others to choose how to go around it at all.

Maybe that had been the reason why she had kept silent about the whole thing after it had become far too painful to keep on pretending she was happy with the future she had decided she needed to take even with how much of herself she had given in order for it work. However short that arrangement had been. Maybe it was the simple act of not wanting others to keep on deciding for her, for what would be best for her. Her thoughts had been taken into custody the second she had been revealed as the savior and her feelings, her emotions, put under scrutiny. It had felt good to have something for herself; a flame of something that made her warm inside.

It had been entirely her fault how she had let that flame keep on growing until it had scorched her very reasons for it to not be noticeable while it turned every part of herself into red hot embers that did nothing but highlight how much she needed the brunette had her side. How much she wanted her.

Voice caught on her throat, she tried to move without rustling too much, the sound unnaturally loud to her ears as she felt her skin protest, the tendons on her neck straining against it as everything felt heightened to the maximum.

She knew what she felt. Yet she would never push that onto the older woman that now rested at her side: while she had been robbed of the ability of being Regina had fought for her ability of choosing, of picking up herself again and again until no one could ever dream of doubting her. She would never force her feelings onto another, specially not the woman that now mimicked a sigh of her own.

Awake, so painfully awake.

“Do you think the bar downstairs is still open?”

The question surprised herself, her voice rough and creaky as the air was expelled from her lungs, heavy and filled with magic. Ricocheting against the walls, the vowels and consonants dripped into the rug of the room as Regina remained silent, chest ceasing to move for a second. A second long enough for Emma to consider if Regina would try to feign she was, indeed, asleep.

“They will probably open it if it is for the savior, dear.”

The words hold an echo of amusement, of exasperation, of breathiness. One that made Emma close her eyes tightly before opening them again: enjoying the blurred shapes of colors that resulted of her action before she felt the mattress dipping more while Regina incorporated enough to fully turn towards her.

To fully make it impossible for Emma to not do the same and realize, once more, how small their bed felt, how much heat permeated the sheets of it, how easy would be for her to move, to inch closer until there would not be any doubt on what she wanted. On what she hoped the other wanted as well.

“But I don’t recommend for you to do it.” Regina kept on talking, voice still soft and despite the darkness Emma was able to make out the shadow of a smile playing at the edges of the older woman’s lips. “We have an early morning tomorrow.”

And that much was true, which merely gave more power to the question why they were even awake to begin with; why someone like Regina was still humoring her with answers to questions that were even more ludicrous.

Rising her right hand and getting it lost on her own hair, Emma winced at the feeling of them getting tangled in the knots she would surely need to brush come the morning. Magic reaching its peak, she could feel silver and dirty white bleeding out of her, dissolving into mots as Regina kept on eyeing her, her face momentarily lightened, framed by the magic the blonde kept on exuding.

It was too much.

It would be too much.

But she wanted for it to happen. Emma realized as moments transformed into seconds; Regina still looking at her, the softness the night called forth with its darkness giving her the concept of them being in something away from the reality and weight their titles and duties brought with it. She wanted for her hands to grasp Regina’s, for them to climb up the older woman’s wrists, grazing her arms, getting lost on her hair. She wanted, she desired it for it to happen.

Regina was frowning now; she could half see it half sense it. A tilt of her head, a burst of purple and jeweled black that painted the air and washed over her as she pressed her legs together. Crossing one over the other.

“Emma?”

It came breathless yet worried and the blonde could see that she was being offered an escape, a reprieve, if she desired to do it so. Heartbeat growing louder on her ears, echoing on her chest, she rose her chin towards the older woman, lips parted, eyes clouded.

She would never push her feelings onto her, she thought once more. She would never ask nor question nor confirm if Regina was aware of them; the mere idea and concept one she didn’t even know how to voice. Yet she wished for her to be able to do so even if it would merely be the confirmation that she had, indeed, fallen, while Regina had remained upright. Like she always did.

A second sigh, this time forlorn and heavier than the first one, broke the silence once more, the purple now lilac and violet as it cracked Regina’s skin; thousands of lines that reached for the silver that kept on coloring the fabric beneath the two of them.

She needed an answer. Any answer.

“Emma.”

Blinking at the sound of her own name, the blonde gasped when the warmth moved closer to her, giving into her, feeding into hers.

If she angled her head then, maybe, just maybe…

Fingers tightly grasping the covers, she waited instead, as Regina kept on moving until she eased the grasp, her touch light while she caressed her knuckles, following the veins on the back of her hand, touching the ridges her bones created against skin she felt so thin she was scared it would tear.

“Please.”

It came out like a plea and she intended it to be that way as Regina kept eyeing her, her face becoming clearer the longer she kept at staring it. She could make out her lips, her nose, her eyes, tendrils of hair framing them. And the second her voice escaped she cursed her very existence as she saw understanding downing on the older woman.

One that got caught on the lilac and tinted them as gold began to spread from between her fingers as her pulse jumped and she turned her hand palm up, slowly, terrified, while Regina didn’t move an inch; fingers intertwining, tightly, as the word kept on repeating on her brain.

She would never make the first move: she respected, she feared, she wanted, far too much for herself to be able to do so. Yet she would never push, would never ask.

Because if she did wouldn’t she be like the ones who had asked and bargained with her until she had given into something they had told her was love despite it feeling like a noose around her neck? Wouldn’t it be like a cursed practice, one that would led her to something -someone- that didn’t want her? That merely put up with her?

Yet, she yearned.

She didn’t remember when the brunette moved closer, her eyes zeroing and yet her mind failing her as Regina turned and hovered over her, their hands now tightly pressed against Regina’s chest while Emma kept angling her face, unsure, afraid.

_Please_

Please.

And then, fire.


End file.
